Knowledge

For I am not so sure

How you can love someone

And not respect them

Or respect someone and not love them

For when I say I love you

You should know

That I also respect you

 

Imadon@ 2012

 

Respect is a 4 Letter Word

Beyond the fence at the back of the garden

Was a large expanse of land

Unoccupied with virgin soil and untamed brush and trees

But my father never disturbed it

Nor would he allow us to disturb this pristine gift of nature

Then one day a homeless man

Planted some banana plants on this virgin plot

Closer to the fence bordering the garden

And as time went on

The banana tree grew

And as fate would have it

There were the times when my father would speak

To this man without a home

And both he and my father would greet each other with a slight nod

Or sometimes a wave

One gardener paying homage to the other

One man paying respect to the other

And in time the once virgin land

Was plowed and houses planted instead

But through all the transformation from

Pristine virgin land to a concrete jungle

The banana plants thrived

For like the homeless man

The new city dwellers

Wanted to have a conversation with the garden

And the gardener trusted to its care

For sometimes all we need is a bit of respect

In our quest to finding love

Imadon @ 2012

The Bow

The new Bow building in Calgary.

Winter

Peace bridge in Calgary

 

Virtues

New love is always impatient with a new love

But tolerant with the old love

That’s somewhat more familiar

Than the new love

Which is less familiar

For it is one thing to care for a dying tree

Than to uproot it and plant something new

In it’s place

And wait patiently for it to grow to maturity

Imadon@ 2011

Silhouette

At the far corner of the dining room

In between the entrance to the kitchen

And the exit to the garden

There stood this beautiful

Pedestal bound vase

Ornamental in design

Exquisitely crafted by a master potter

It’s sole purpose in life

Being a mere vessel to hold

Cut flowers from the garden

But alas even such a simple task was never

To be completed

For my mother would rarely if ever

Cut flowers from the garden

But every weekend, religiously, she would polish the vase

And the pedestal it stood on

She had this habit

That had become almost like a morning ritual

To pause by the vase on her way to the kitchen

Long enough that you could see the sun rising slowly

Above the horizon  if you looked long enough

For the garden was at a vantage point on a hill

And so it was on a bright summer day

For tropical days always seemed like that

That I had occasion to pass by the vase

On my way to the kitchen

And in the moment I had paused

I could see the silhouette of my father

Almost as if rising from the vase

In the moment of the sunrise

And I knew then

As I know now

That the vase will never be filled with flowers

For sometimes if you paused long enough

You will see a silhoutte of love

As if imprinted in the depths of your heart

Imadon @ 2012